Because he must his words in order place,
Forgets her forms of pleading, more precise—
More bound to words than is the poet’s lore:
And for these fine conceits she fitly chose
A tongue that barbarism itself doth use.
We, noting all these wrongs, did long expect
Their hard condition would have made them wise,
To offer us their service, plac’d so ill;
But finding them addicted to their choice,
And specially desirous to present